


on the broken backs of all the words we spared (like little soldiers in the trenches)

by Some_Dead_Guy



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hatake Kakashi is Bad at Feelings, I love these two so much but they both have so much Mental Illness, Let’s play a game of how much can I project onto Kakashi, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Some_Dead_Guy/pseuds/Some_Dead_Guy
Summary: Kakashi is a soldier. He is a tool and a weapon, a killer even at the age of six years old. All that matters is the weapon in his hand and the voice of his Hokage in his ears.And then there’s Obito.(Or, Kakashi over the years.)
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito
Comments: 9
Kudos: 140





	on the broken backs of all the words we spared (like little soldiers in the trenches)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, omg I finally finished a fic for these two. I have so many fics of these two started and I’m so excited to finally finish one. I love these two so much, them being my favorite characters and all, so I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> !Check for Warnings in the endnotes!

Kakashi knows how to tear through sinew and muscle, break and crack bone, incapacitate and decapitate, by the time he is six years old.

_ Strong, genius, soldier.  _

That’s what they call him, six years old and already Chūnin, already the perfect soldier, perfect tool, a once in a generation sort of talent. Even after his father’s death,  _ (after he abandons him),  _ he is recognized for his mind and intellect, for his ability, despite his age.

He is six years old, and he learns how to kill before he learns how to comfort, how to heal. 

He knows how to gouge out eyes, knows how to push a senbon into a neck and paralyze a victim, but he doesn’t know how to hug someone, doesn’t know what words to say to someone to calm them down, does not know how to mend and to help and to  _ save. _

And he’s fine with that. He doesn’t  _ need _ to help anyone other than his village, his Hokage. He’s a tool and a weapon, a soldier that is disposable, six years old and nothing more than a body to be used, a shinobi.

Kakashi knows the feeling of blood slick on his palms, the crunching of bone beneath his fingers, what someone’s last breath sounds like. 

But he doesn’t know what comforting arms around him feels like, what it feels like to be warm and safe and to be cared for, doesn’t know what a familiar hand feels like on his head or his shoulder, what a soft and encouraging voice sounds like in his ears, and that hardly matters.

_ (He doesn’t remember, doesn’t remember what all those sentimental things feel like, only remembers a bloody tanto and a cooling corpse on the floor and the feeling of being left alone.) _

And it  _ doesn’t matter, _ because he’s a shinobi and a soldier and he’s  _ good _ at it because he  _ has  _ to be. He follows the rules, he does what he’s supposed to do, he molds himself into what the village wants.

That’s all that matters, and he doesn’t let anything else get in his way.

Then there’s Obito.

Obito is not a soldier. A soldier does not question orders, does not hesitate, does not cry or whine, does not let sympathy or empathy cloud their judgement. 

Proper tools for their village do not  _ care. _

And Obito  _ cares, _ cares so much he’s nearly bursting with it, bright and like a supernova, unignorable. And he’s ridiculous, quick to cry, quick to break rules and regulation. 

No matter how many times Kakashi tries to shove logic and rules into his head by chastising him and reminding him of the shinobi law, Obito only laughs him off or complains so much that Kakashi is eventually forced to give up.

And Minato-sensei doesn’t make matters much better. Ever since they’ve been shoved onto a team together, Minato simply humors him, despite being the adult, their teacher.

Rin certainly won’t do anything about it either, seeing as she has an obvious soft spot for the boy that seems to make it nearly impossible for her to get sincerely angry at him.

Which leaves Kakashi as the only one who seems to be bothered.

And he’s justified for it, because he  _ has _ to be. Obito doesn’t follow the rules, he’s nothing special, he’s not strong like Kakashi, he’s not a genius, which makes him  _ wrong. _

_ (He  _ has _ to be, because who is Kakashi if not the perfect soldier, the born shinobi? Who is he if someone like Obito is right?) _

They’re in a war, three little soldiers in a battlefield, and yet Obito still laughs and jokes and is late to training sessions. He breaks the rules, he becomes Chūnin, he’s somehow Kakashi’s teammate.

He’s loud and stupid and kind and—

He’s bright. Bright, like the sun is in the sky or a shooting star is at night, and Kakashi doesn’t know what to do with that. They complete missions together, they’re successful, Obito kills even if he cries about it afterwards. 

His team  _ survives _ and they fight, and they last longer than he had ever expected them to, and Minato and Rin and Obito smile even when Kakashi has forgotten how to.

These people, shinobi who are not perfect, who do not follow every rule strictly, are his team. 

He turns in his bed at night, turns over on his pillow and sees their photo. He keeps the picture on his bedside table, but he’ll never admit to it. 

(He especially won’t admit that it’s due to anything akin to  _ sentimentality.) _

His eyes roam over the face of Minato, Rin, himself, before his eyes eventually fall on Obito. The boy who’s nothing like a shinobi, and yet he is. 

Kakashi’s eyes linger on the boy briefly before he rolls over and tries to fall asleep.

_______

“You wanna go out to eat?” Obito says suddenly in the middle of a mission as Kakashi is dressing one of his wounds. 

They’re separated from Rin and Minato at the moment, having split off in an attempt to also split the group of enemy shinobi that had been following them. It had worked, considering two had gone after them and the rest after Rin and Minato-sensei. 

The nin they had fought off lay dead a few dozen feet away from them, and Kakashi is wrapping a slice on Obito’s leg. He had hardly been injured, all things considered, and Kakashi is quietly grateful he’s not in a position where he’s going to have to carry the boy back to the other half of their team.

_ (He does not dwell on the fact his relief is more stemmed from being happy Obito is not hurt, and not in the practicality of having an uninjured teammate.) _

“I mean, after we’re finished with all of this.” Obito continues absently, waving a lazy hand around, his dark eyes following the movements of Kakashi’s hands as he wraps white bandages around his calf.

The attention makes something warm in his chest, and he narrows his eyes at the feeling.

His fingers brush Obito’s skin, and he ignores the heat of it.

“Why?” He asks, eventually pulling his hands back from the wound and surveying his handiwork. He’s not a medic-nin, but he wouldn’t be a shinobi if he couldn’t handle small things such as this. Obito is thankfully no worse for wear other than a few more scratches and bruises and a couple of tears in his clothes.

Obito scoffs, like whatever Kakashi had just said was a bit stupid. It makes Kakashi’s lips tug down into a frown his teammate can’t see.

“Because we’re teammates, maybe?” He drawls, but he’s smiling despite the apparent annoyance in his tone.

Kakashi blinks at him, meeting ebony black eyes, and chews on the inside of his cheek. Obito’s face is a bit flushed, but it must be from the last few dregs of their battle.

“If you pay.” He concedes, falling back into the grass in front of Obito. Their knees knock together, and Kakashi ignores the spark he can feel from the small bit of contact, the warmth he can feel in his face.

Obito snorts, leaning back on his hands, “Yeah, sure whatever.”

He smiles, kicking at Kakashi lightly with his uninjured leg, and Kakashi feels something light and dizzy overcome him. His chest is warm and his arms feel like they’re made of jelly, his head stuffed to the brim with fuzzy cotton and yet the feeling is somehow pleasant, and he’s never quite felt this way before.

He responds to the feeling by kicking Obito back.

_______

Kakashi doesn’t realize he cares until he comes to a point where he can’t admit to it anymore. 

Not to the person he wants to tell the most, anyway.

He becomes Jounin, properly becomes the leader of his team, and then everything is swiftly taken from him before he can even so much as blink. 

It’s not strange to lose comrades, not in war, but Kakashi never thought that it would affect  _ him. _ He is a tool, and tools do not weep, they do not cry over what they have lost. 

Weapons do not sob when they become dull.

And then Obito protects him, kills for him, tells him that his father was a hero, and something in Kakashi is strange and  _ fluttery  _ almost—and then he’s gone _. _

He thinks he has something for a moment, that he’s grasped something similar to how he felt when he was a child, before he was left all alone—and it’s all gone in a mere moment.

There’s nothing that could ever make him forget the sight of Obito crushed under those rocks, nothing could ever allow him to forget the raspy sound of his voice as he had slowly died, the rattling of his breath in broken lungs. Kakashi has seen death, has killed and almost been killed, but it has never affected him like  _ this. _

The pain in his chest, sharp and clear, hurts more than the aching slice through his left eye. The pounding in his head, the dawning realization that  _ Obito’s going to die  _ hurts more than any physical blow. 

Is this what it feels like to finally become human? Like something is being ripped from you, torn from your very soul, separated into tiny little pieces that no longer fit together anymore. He’s not a weapon, not a soldier in this moment, he’s only a sobbing child faced with mortality and the fickleness of human life even if he should already know better.

And then the realization,  _ that should be me. _

Kakashi is supposed to be the one there, he’s supposed to be the one crushed, the one dying. 

But Obito had saved him, had picked him up and threw him out of the way even if Kakashi was the one who had deserved that fate.  _ He’s _ the one who deserves to die in a dark dingy cave,  _ he’s _ the one who should be telling his teammates to leave without him,  _ he’s _ the one who should be dying alone.

Because the world doesn’t need another killer, another heartless soldier, because that’s who Kakashi is, who he’s always been. The world needs  _ Obito, _ who is kind and strong and someone worth following, worth listening to. 

But the world does not care, apparently, because all that’s left of Obito now is his eye in Kakashi’s skull. 

(Kakashi had curled his fingers around Obito’s as Rin slipped the eye into his ruined socket, curled his fingers around Obito’s warm hand and held on so tight that it must have hurt.)

The rocks cave in around Obito as he takes Rin and  _ runs.  _ He has to get her out, he has to protect her, because he promised he would. It’s the last thing Obito had wanted, for the person he cherished most to be kept safe, and Kakashi will die before he fails Obito even after his death.

_______

He wakes up, and Minato’s there, Rin is too, but there’s no Obito. Not anymore.

_______

Kakashi doesn’t realize how apparent Obito is in his life until he’s suddenly gone, no longer there.

There’s no more bright boy in orange and blue in his life anymore, there’s no boy to be late to training sessions anymore, no boy to help old ladies cross the street and carry their groceries for them. There’s no young boy crooning about becoming Hokage, no bright boy who wants to help people with everything that he is, no third person in their little team anymore.

There’s no one there to make Kakashi's heart speed up, make his skin feel warm and strangely comfortable, like a hot drink on a cold day. No one there to make him feel a little closer to  _ human _ rather than  _ tool. _

They call Obito a hero. 

He had died like a shinobi should, fighting in battle, fighting in a war that children should have no part in. He’s a  _ hero,  _ and he’s praised more in death than he ever was in life.

_ (If Obito was a hero, then Kakashi doesn't want them. He doesn’t need heroes, not when all he feels is empty and cold and like something is missing. If Obito was a hero, he doesn't want them, he just wants Obito to be  _ here _ again.) _

_______

He tries to rip Obito’s eye right out of his socket one day, and Rin has to grab him and cry and scream at him for him to stop. 

He apologizes to her, his throat thick and words choked, and she cries harder.

_ (He looks in the mirror, sees that red eye, and he knows he’ll never be able to forget. He also knows he doesn’t deserve this strange, demented gift he’s been given. There’s nothing he looks at worth seeing, no matter what he was supposed to be for Obito.  _

_ Obito would never want to see the breaking boy that’s been left behind.) _

_______

Half of Kakashi’s life has been spent kneeling in front of cold, lifeless stone. 

Obito’s death does not change that, only seems to make that statement more true, and he stands in front of the memorial stone for so long that his knees ache and his back throbs. There’s no body, no separate grave to visit, and Kakashi doesn’t know if having one would make any of this any better.

He sometimes wonders, rather morbidly, if Obito’s body is still under that cave in. He wonders how long it had taken for him to actually die, wonders how long he was stuck under there before he was finally able to slip away, alone and in pain and in the dark. 

Sometimes, in fits of nightmares and turmoil, Kakashi almost wants to go back and get his body himself. He never does, but he’s more tempted than he likely should be.

He reaches out and touches the outline of Obito’s name, fingers dipping into the carving of him.

Rin has to force him home most days with a soft voice and careful touches, and he lets her. He won’t leave Obito for long, after all. 

He’ll always come crawling back, and he wonders if this is what Obito would have wanted.

_______

Kakashi wonders if the gods must hate him as his fist drives through Rin’s chest. They must, he thinks, as his hand crushes her rib cage, curves around her heart.

If there were anyone up there who cared about him, they wouldn’t allow this to happen. Not like this, not to her, not through him. Rin chokes on her own blood, spitting red and swaying on her feet. It’s a quick death, and Kakashi doesn’t know if that’s for the best or not, having no last words, no last goodbyes.

Kakashi drops her, unable to support her weight under that crumpling of his own knees and the heaviness of his arms. He can feel the heat and slickness of tears on his face, blood on his hand and bone under his nails, and he falls forward into blissful darkness.

_______

When Kakashi wakes next he’s in a sea of red.

He’s surrounded by corpses, the enemy shinobi that had surrounded them all lay dead around him in pools of their own blood. He’s covered in it too, red soaked into his clothes, matted and dripping from his hair, drying and crusted on his face and arms. 

And yet, all he can feel is Rin’s blood on his hand.

He tries to scream but nothing comes out other than a trembling gasp.

He hears voices, sees flashes of Konoha headbands, and none of it ever registers. He’s talking, he thinks, saying something, but his mind is swimming. 

When the black overtakes him, he almost hopes he’ll never wake again.

_______

He does wake again, though.

He knows he’s in a hospital before he ever even blinks his eye open, already familiar with the uncomfortable hardness of hospital beds and the smell of medicine and antiseptic in his nose.

He almost wants to fall back asleep, the darkness so tempting, but he’s not alone. 

He opens his right eye and when his head lolls over to the side he sees Minato next to him, sitting in a chair, his face in his hands.

“S-sensei?” Kakashi croaks, and the man’s head snaps up to meet his half-lidded gaze. 

The man’s face is wet, his hair a disheveled mess, like he’s been repeatedly running his hands through it, and his eyes are a bloodshot red. Kakashi hasn’t seen him so visibly upset since Obito had first died, and even then Minato’s mind had been so preoccupied with war that he hadn’t been able to mourn properly.

He looks even worse right now, and Kakashi knows that it’s all his fault.

“Kakashi.” His sensei says quietly, breathing out heavily, “How—how are you feeling?”

Kakashi swallows, and thinks rather hysterically,  _ why can’t I just die? Why is it always them instead? _

It’s a rather dramatic thought, something in Kakashi says, while the other part of him just wants to slip into eternal darkness and be done with it.

“Tired.” Kakashi settles on.

Minato smiles, or at least he tries to. It stretches on his face and looks painful more than anything, the usual softness and warmth of it completely missing.

“You can go back to sleep after you’ve eaten.” Minato says, that mimicry of a smile slipping off of his face. Minato’s eyes are watery, and his hands are shaking no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

“Okay.” Kakashi whispers, even if the thought of food makes his stomach turn over and his tongue feel like sandpaper.

He clenches his hand, and is convinced he can still feel her blood on him.

_______

He has nightmares nearly every night now.

He is no stranger to them, has had them ever since he found his father’s dead body on their floor, but it’s never been like this before. 

Rin’s voice haunts him, her face, her eyes, and sometimes Obito’s there, looking heartbroken and betrayed. He couldn’t even keep the promise he had made to him, barely a year after his death and Kakashi has already proved that he’s a failure.

But he’s always been a failure, hasn’t he? He wasn’t good enough for his father to stay, couldn’t even keep his teammates alive, couldn’t protect a single person he ever cared about. All that  _ strength  _ he had, all that  _ genius intellect,  _ and for  _ what? _

His friends are still dead. His father’s still gone. 

He washes his hands until they blister, scrubbing them and running hot water over them until they’re red and steaming. It hurts, but he deserves it, anything to rid himself of the  _ red  _ even if he knows it will always be there no matter what he does.

He wonders if this is the future that Obito had wanted to see.

_______

He becomes an ANBU.

And it’s a reprieve from all of the guilt and the  _ hurt _ he feels for a different kind of pain. Broken bones, aching bruises, slices that sting and wounds that leave him nearly dead, he can deal with that. 

He’s a soldier again, a proper one, the tool he’s always thought himself as. He’s able to serve his village, he can die for it, and his life is quickly consumed by death and assassination and masked faces.

He’s known as  _ the friend killer,  _ and Kakashi never tells them otherwise. They’re right, after all. It was his fault that Obito and Rin had died, and he knew that. If he had never fallen in that cave, if he had just listened to Obito in the first place, that boy would have never died. If Kakashi had tried harder, if he had paid more attention, Rin would have never died by his hand.

Sometimes, he wonders if he should have just died with his father.

Gai doesn’t like it, and Kakashi hardly cares. 

He’s fourteen years old, and death is all that matters, the weapon in his hand and his Hokage’s voice in his ears. Nothing else matters.

He’s going to die an ANBU, Kakashi knows, and sometimes he even yearns for it. He’s going to die the soldier he’s always been and he’ll beg Rin and Obito for forgiveness when he meets them again.

_______

Kushina’s voice lilts through her open window as she cooks, loud but somehow still soft.

Technically, she’s not supposed to know that he’s even there, but he knows that she's aware he’s been assigned to protect her. 

She talks about the food she’s making with excitement, like she usually does, and Kakashi listens to every word. She hums too, sometimes, singing under her breath, and Kakashi wonders if this is what a mother must sound like. 

Kushina’s going to make a wonderful parent when her child is born, Kakashi can already tell. 

“Kakashi,” Kushina sticks her head out of the kitchen window, not looking at him but he can see the soft smile on her face.

“Come eat with us.” She says simply, still smiling, and pulls her head back inside.

Kakashi can feel his chest tighten, and after a few moments of confused contemplation, he slips in through the open window and lands silently on her kitchen floor.

She’s setting the table, her back turned towards him and he watches her. If he squints and looks hard enough he can almost imagine Obito and Rin filling in the seats at the table. He can almost hear their voices, Obito’s brash yelling and loud excitement, Rin’s softer voice and tittering laughter that clinks like bells in the summer.

But they’re not there, because they’re dead.

“Come sit.” Kushina says, sitting at the table herself and looking expectantly at him.

Kakashi takes a stilted step forward, his Hound mask still in place, his weapons still on him. He feels so out of place, in Kushina’s well lit kitchen, sitting at their small dining table.

Kushina simply smiles at him, and it’s not long before Minato returns home. He barely looks bothered by Kakashi’s presence, only acknowledging him with a gentle look in his eyes.

Kakashi clenches his fingers into his palms, and he feels like he can’t breathe.

He doesn't eat until Kushina places careful fingers on his elbow and smiles at him, looking at him in a silent plea. Kakashi’s eyes catch on Minato’s and the older man nods his assent, looking a little amused with him.

Kakashi breathes in and pulls the mask off slowly, and despite spending over three years with these people he suddenly feels naked without it. Bare and on display and uncomfortably vulnerable.

He ignores the feeling and eats anyway. 

Minato’s and Kushina’s voices fill the silence, and they don’t force Kakashi to talk. It’s—Kakashi doesn't know the word, but he almost feels  _ normal _ in this moment. A little like he almost belongs here even when he knows that he doesn’t.

But—but he wants to. Wants to have a place in a warm kitchen, at a dining table filled with more than just himself. It’s not perfect, Kakashi still feels the aching loss of something— _ someone _ —missing, but it’s close. 

It’s as close as it can ever be.

Kakashi smiles, just a little, under his cloth mask. It’s a small lifting of lips, barely even there, but it feels like  _ something _ in the bleakness he’s been consumed with.

He feels himself hope, just a bit, even if he knows better.

_______

Minato and Kushina die the night their son is born. 

And Kakashi’s hope dies with them.

_______

Kakashi is twenty-one years old when his life changes again.

Kakashi is taken out of ANBU, and he’s left floundering, embarrassingly inept.

Kakashi is not a teacher. He does not know how to nurture, he does not how to comfort or soothe. But he knows how to raise a shinobi, he knows what it means to be a soldier and a tool.

He knows that isn’t enough, but it will just have to do.

After all, if he just fails every team he is matched with, the Hokage will eventually see his mistake and put him back where he belongs. And then he will finally be able to die, a soldier, like he was always supposed to.

He was never meant to become a teacher, any sort of nurturing figure, and there was especially never meant to be children who look up to him.

Kakashi doesn’t want that, doesn’t need that, and he will just have to endure until he is back where he belongs.

_______

Kakashi does not properly meet his sensei’s son until he is twenty-six years old.

The boy looks just like his father, startlingly bright blonde hair and kind blue eyes. But he has his mother’s face shape, in the curve of his cheeks and the lines of his eyes he sees her. He has her temper too, all of her stubbornness, her determination to just  _ be.  _

In whatever form it had come in, Kushina and Naruto seem as if their minds are set on one goal and then they never stray from it.

It’s annoyingly endearing, even if it makes Kakashi’s heart ache and feel as if his chest has concaved in on itself and been cracked open.

He thinks Obito would have liked him. Kakashi can almost see that long gone boy in this one, bright and loud and brave. 

But he’s still no teacher.

He doesn’t know what to do with Naruto, who is bursting at the seams for someone to just  _ look at him  _ and see something more than the monster that resides beneath his skin, sealed inside of him. He doesn’t know what to do with Sasuke, who is brimming with grief and hatred and has eyes that remind him of himself when he was young and freshly raw from the death of his father. He doesn’t know what to do with Sakura, who doesn’t seem to know who she is just yet, smart and headstrong but too focused on other people rather than who she is herself.

Kakashi knows he’s still a soldier at heart, a tool and a weapon, and those things are not warm, they are not friendly. They do not hold the ability to comfort.

He knows he’s going to fail them the moment he lays eyes on them, and even if he knows he is an idiot for it he desperately  _ does not want to. _

_ Let me have this, just once, please just let me have this. _

_______

Sasuke leaves, and Sakura and Naruto find better teachers. 

Even if he knew it was going to happen it doesn’t completely dull the ache that’s left in his chest.

He’s put back on the ANBU roster under Tsunade’s reign.

He wonders what Obito would think.

_______

When Kakashi dies, he feels ready for it. He’s going to finally be with Rin, Minato, Kushina, his father,  _ Obito. _

The people he’s spent all his life mourning. Finally able to move on.

But when he’s brought back he knows who he needs to fight for. There’s still Naruto, and there’s still Sakura, and even Kakashi has not completely given up on Sasuke even if he probably should. He still needs to be there for his kids.

Even when he almost misses it, that blissful moving on.

Obito’s just going to have to wait a little longer.

_______

Kakashi has come to a point in his life where he’s mostly at peace with what he has lost. At least, he likes to think he is.

It’s not perfect, of course it isn’t, but he has  _ people _ again. Something so close to family that he can pretend like it is. There’s Naruto, and there’s Gai and Sakura and Yamato and there are people he  _ cares _ about again, people who care for him right back.

They’re not Obito, they’re not Rin or Minato or Kushina—but.

But they’re  _ his, _ somehow, his to love and his to rely on, his solid rocks in a violent storm. 

And then that mask comes off, breaks and falls away, and something in Kakashi crumbles and cracks off with it.

It’s Obito’s face.

That bright boy—not a boy anymore, not bright, but instead scarred and broken with a voice that rattles like shattered shards of glass. That’s not Obito, that’s not the person that Kakashi remembers, has practically  _ worshipped  _ for nearly two decades  _ it can’t be— _

But it is. 

When Kakashi breathes it feels heavy and thick in his lungs, each breath burning his throat, making his tongue stick like sandpaper in his mouth. 

Obito’s dark eyes on him feels like an accusation, and Kakashi can’t help but feel like he deserves it. Even now, Kakashi is still lower than Obito ever was. 

Kakashi wonders, somewhere in the adrenaline and the sound of his heart thumping like a war drum in his ears, if it would have been better if he really had just died that day in that cave.

_______

They win the war.

Kakashi survives it, somehow. 

And so does Obito.

Small mercies, dumb luck, Kakashi doesn’t know, but Obito had  _ survived. _

There’s a part of him that almost wishes he wasn’t so blindingly  _ relieved _ that Obito is still alive.

Kakashi falls down so heavily next to him he can feel his back pop in several places, stitches pulling and bruises aching, and he grunts at the feeling. Obito snorts at the sound, a tired and deep sound that is only vaguely humorous. Kakashi still finds himself smiling, just a bit.

Kakashi knows this isn’t going to last, but he’s selfishly drinking it up while it does. The only reason Obito isn’t in chains is because Kakashi is sure no one can find it in themselves to care at the moment, likely too relieved at the fact they’re even still alive right now.

Kakashi can see shinobi huddling around each other, treating injuries, holding onto each other so hard that Kakashi can almost imagine the sounds of bones grinding together. No one seems to mind, though.

“Maa, not gonna hold my hand?” Kakashi teases, his voice a thick and low drawl as he looks at two shinobi women cry tears of relief into each other’s shoulders, fingers laced together tightly. 

Kakashi sways closer to Obito so that their shoulders brush. The other man doesn’t point it out.

Obito huffs, head tilting to look over at him. His lips curl in what is almost a smile, his scars shifting with the expression. Obito’s face is sharper than it ever was when they were children, much more severe looking, but it’s still undeniably his. It’s strangely relieving.

“Don’t you have actual friends to do that for you?”

Kakashi hums, pouting childishly behind his mask despite it not being visible, “You saying we're not friends?”

Obito squints at him, like he’s trying to gauge something off his face. Kakashi meets his stare.

Obito shakes his head with a wry smile, “Are we?”

Kakashi hisses a breath between his teeth, “Well, we just went through a war together, and I thought we had a moment or two there where we acted like friends.”

“If your definition of friend is a crazed lunatic switching sides at the last second when an even crazier lunatic pops up, then yeah sure, we’re friends.”

Obito looks rather unimpressed, but Kakashi nods, “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Obito runs a hand over his face, chuckling quietly into his palm, “Maybe you’re the crazed lunatic, after all.”

“Probably.” Kakashi agrees easily, and in a fit of pure exhaustion and the fact he never thought he would be able to do it in the first place, plants his head right on Obito’s shoulder.

He can feel the man tense beneath him, but Obito doesn’t shove him off. 

“What are you doing?” Obito asks quietly, and Kakashi can feel the whisper of breath against his hair.

Kakashi shrugs, and the material of his sleeve scratches against Obito’s bare arms, “I don’t know. I missed you.”

Kakashi turns his face, his nose tipping into Obito’s collarbone. He smells like dirt and sweat and something warm. 

Obito breathes out slowly, a heavy exhale that makes Kakashi hair shift. 

“This won’t last.” Obito says, voice barely louder than a wisp of breath. He doesn't specify exactly what, but he doesn't need to.

“I know.”

Kakashi’s eyes slip closed after a moment, and if he listens hard enough he can hear the pulse of Obito’s heart, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. His skin is warm against his head, surprisingly soft and compact with muscle. He feels so  _ alive _ against him, and it provides a strange sense of comfort that if Kakashi was any less tired he’d be too embarrassed to admit it, even to himself.

And then Obito’s fingers slip against his, curling in between them, palm hot and large pressed against his hand. Kakashi’s eyes pop open, and his fingers twitch in surprise before squeezing Obito’s hand so tightly he’s sure it must hurt. Obito says nothing, only squeezes right back. 

It reminds him of that day, of the feeling of a rough palm in his and the aching cold of stone beneath his knees and the rasp of laboured breathing. But Obito isn’t dying now. He’s whole and alive and unmistakably different but still that boy—deep down and buried but he’s still the Obito that Kakashi remembers, despite everything.

He’s still that boy that makes his skin heat and tingle, his heart thud and his head fog.

Kakashi breathes out a stuttering exhale, and when his head tilts up Obito is already looking at him. 

His lips are pressed tightly together, and his brows are furrowed. He looks a bit constipated, really, and Kakashi can’t help it when he laughs.

Obito frowns and goes to pull away with an irritated huff but Kakashi stubbornly pulls his hand into his lap.

“No! You can’t take it back now.” Kakashi chastises through his breathless giggling.

Obito purses his lips at him, but doesn’t try to pull away again. 

Kakashi leans forward and lets his masked lips press against the curve of Obito’s cheekbone. The man goes bright red.

He splutters, his artificial hand coming up to press against the spot Kakashi had kissed. And then he pouts, a strange expression on his hardened face, yet somehow still effective.

“Is that it?” 

Kakashi blinks, and Obito’s hand abruptly moves so that it’s touching Kakashi’s face instead, fingers cupping his jaw and thumb teasing at the top of Kakashi’s mask. 

Kakashi swallows, and despite the fact that Obito’s face is still a bit red there’s a determined glint in his eyes.

He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t.

Kakashi nods, because apparently he’s always been a bit of a masochist.

Obito does it slowly, thumb hooking under the fabric, tugging it down so slowly that Kakashi can feel the drag of it against his skin. Obito’s lips fall open in obvious surprise, dark eyes roving over every piece of Kakashi’s face before settling resolutely on his mouth.

Obito’s thumb brushes the beauty mark beneath his lips, his other fingers curling against his neck. 

And then Obito is kissing him. The first thing Kakashi notices is the softness of his lips, and then the indent of his scar, and then the  _ heat  _ of it. Obito’s mouth is warm and wet, and when Kakashi’s lips part he can feel the curl of Obito’s tongue against his, what Obito’s scars feel like on his tongue.

Kakashi’s free hand twists into short, white strands, his other hand squeezing Obito’s so hard he can feel the creaking of bone.

There’s no soldier in him in this moment, no weapon, there’s no war, just Obito and his mouth and his skin. Just Obito’s tongue, the warmth of him and puff of his breath, the beat of his heart and the hands he uses to touch him. 

Kakashi doesn’t pull away until his lungs ache and his lips have gone nearly numb.

Obito pants, lips slick with spit, a flush high up on his cheeks. His face looks smoothed out, features less severe and slack with pleasure. Something coils low in Kakashi’s stomach and he sways forward until he can briefly catch Obito’s lips in his again.

When he pulls away this time he only goes so far that his head can still rest against Obito’s.

“I’m going to kill anyone who tries to take this away from me.” He breathes, so quiet that only Obito can hear him.

Obito chuckles breathlessly, “You don’t mean that.”

Kakashi’s head tilts and their noses brush, “I might.”

Obito places a gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth, soft and barely there. Kakashi shudders.

“I missed you, too.” Obito whispers, only for him to hear.

Maybe this can be enough, even if Kakashi knows that it isn’t, not really.

This won’t last. Nothing ever does.

But maybe Kakashi can force it to.

**Author's Note:**

> !Warnings: Suicidal ideation, and vague depictions of blood and injuries. I’m not sure how severe those two are in this story, but just in case be warned!
> 
> And thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed do consider leaving a kudos or comment I greatly appreciate both! ✨
> 
> The ending was significantly more fluffier than I planned, but considering the very melancholy tone of the rest of this fic, maybe it was appreciated??
> 
> Also, I kinda want to write more for this, so I might make other parts, such as this from Obito’s POV and a continuation of their completely self-indulgent and domestic life after this if anyone is interested lmao.


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